


Breathe

by Toffle



Series: Safe Houses [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood, Gen, HQ!! Zombie!AU, Haikyuu!! Zombie!AU, M/M, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-22
Updated: 2015-10-22
Packaged: 2018-04-27 12:30:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5048620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toffle/pseuds/Toffle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Certain that the newest flu strain to make headlines had been blown out of proportion, Iwaizumi was about to discover that he was gravely wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathe

 

To believe, in this day and age, that no one had ever considered the possibility of an apocalypse, would have been foolish. The media was writhe with the subject; comics, TV shows, and games lined the shelves where ever you looked. And with their popularity came the fanatics; people overly prepared for an eventual ‘end’. Zombies, Aliens, Nuclear war. If there was an idea, there were people who believed in it.

However, those people were far from average. Iwaizumi Hajime was just that. Average.

Eighteen and fresh at the start of summer, Iwaizumi began the slow process of packing away childhood memories into storage. Graduation loomed on the horizon for the coming spring, and his family insisted on a head start. Despite the errands, the time-off to recover from the intense inter-high competition and school exams brought welcome relief.

However, Iwaizumi was not fool enough to believe the rest would be a long one. As always, there was Oikawa. Summer practice also marked its place on the calendar. This would be their last summer together before university split them in two directions. Iwaizumi sighed, and set his cheek atop the desk. He couldn’t remember a time without Oikawa by his side, but it would all end come March. He pushed the thought from his mind, back into the darkened depths. There would always be future summers, even if a lot of things changed. 

The negativity was doing him no good, a weighted pressure in his thoughts. He pushed back his chair to roll across to the set of drawers behind him, where an old glass tank sat atop the shelf. Iwaizumi watched silently for a moment as the beetle inside wandered across a branch. There would be no more freaking Oikawa out with creepy-crawlies either…

Iwaizumi drooped, sinking back into the chair, and glanced at the clock. Time was ticking on and he needed to make dinner. His mother mentioned feeling unwell, so the least he could do for her was take on more of the housework. He stood from the chair and made a mental note to pick up some medicine from the chemist in the morning. Apparently a bug had been going around.

~*~

She had been sick for over a week now. The doctor diagnosed her with the flu, and Iwaizumi cancelled his plans with Oikawa. They wouldn't make it to the beach this week.

News reports in regards to a particularly strong flu strain circulated wildly. As far as Iwaizumi was concerned there was nothing shocking about the matter. Bird flu, Swine flu, there'd been so many over the years that another type was hardly front-page worthy. Naturally there had been deaths; young children, the elderly, and the weak. No one that Iwaizumi knew of, however.

He turned his eyes from the news, irritation scratching at his patience. His mother was strong. The very fact left him without too much cause for worry, she was by no means a frail woman, fit for her age and certainly active. She would recover from this, but until then, Iwaizumi resolved to be her support.

Oikawa's mother sent stew over the moment the news reached her ears; steamed leaks and soft bread. She thrust the bowl into Iwaizumi's hand, before tilting back his head to check his health. Iwaizumi fidgeted under her scrutiny, though warmth blossomed to his cheeks at her concern. Oikawa's mother had always treated him like her own.

“Really, thank you." He told her, idling at the doorway where she kept him. “She'll appreciate this. I'm really sorry mum won't be able to join you on your vacation this year. I know you were both looking forward to this.”

Oikawa's mother heard nothing of it, shaking her head with a sigh.

“Nonsense, her health is important. And, I want you to let me know the moment she’s well again.” She squeezed his arm with smile. “I'll be sure to bring back a souvenir for the both of you. Keep well, Hajime-kun, give your mother my well wishes.”

Iwaizumi returned the smile, lifting the bowl slightly. “I will, thank you. Enjoy your trip.”

With half of the broth stored in the fridge, the rest then went uneaten; his mother now too sick to keep down food. She'd be alright, it had to get worse before it could get better, that’s what he had often heard people say.

~*~

His mother slept more often than not. Her fever climbed higher with each passing day, but the doctor never encouraged her to be hospitalised. Iwaizumi worried his lip, wanting to take the decision as a good sign despite the denial heavy in his gut. Hopefully her fever would break soon. It had to.

The news continued to speak of the flu scare and Iwaizumi stopped watching it after the second mention of pandemics. Hadn't they learnt from the Ebola crisis? Or SARS? People panicked with news like this, and hospitals became overrun with frightened patients sporting nothing more than a cough. After all these events, it was a wonder why there still wasn’t a better system in place. The reality grated at Iwaizumi's nerves.

Surely that was the reason the doctor had been less than encouraging about having his mother stay on-site. His assurances echoed in Iwaizumi’s mind. _‘It’s simply the flu’, ‘we’ve prescribed medication, ‘she just needs bed rest’._  Bullshit. 

~*~

In the past two hours, Iwaizumi had received three links to articles about living corpses, and witnessed the birth of at least five times as many conspiracy theories. His snort bounced off the walls.

Notifications chimed through the speakers, his Skype chat consisting solely of three idiots. It was of little to no surprise when Oikawa started to post ridiculous links, and even less of a surprise when Hanamaki jumped in to fan the flames of the conspiracy 'fire'. Iwaizumi groaned into his palm, Oikawa's keen conspiracy senses never failed to fine-tune themselves to a wild theory. Though usually they were of the extra-terrestrial variety. Still, it wasn't too strange for Oikawa to be lead down the path of nonsensical no return.

“I'm telling you, they were confirmed dead and like, later that day they just got back up!”

“You're so full of shit, Oikawa." Iwaizumi clicked out from an article headlining itself as 'the dead rising'. “Last time, you believed that aliens made contact. It was an artist who used a farm to make crop circles. How is this any different?”

“It was an easy mistake! _And_  there was other evidence too! But any way, they said this has happened in several other countries; the dead rising...”

Well, he wasn't entirely wrong, though hell be damned before Iwaizumi admit that outloud. This had happened plenty of times before, but usually as a result of misdiagnosis. The unfortunate person would slip into coma and wake weeks later, their life signs too weak to notice. There had been many causes over centuries.

Iwaizumi felt his eyes beginning to hurt from rolling them in exasperation too often. He'd give it a week, and then laugh at their ridiculous claims when the headlines finally read misdiagnosis.

~*~

He didn't have to wait a week. There hadn't been a mistake. 

~*~

He had been online for over two hours now, sorting through check-lists and entrance exam requirements. Iwaizumi needed to sort out the boxes across his floor, and had only just put away the revision list for the summer practice court line-ups. He could review Oikawa’s plays and their new potential practice sets later on.

Iwaizumi eyed the boxes with dull interest. His father was supposed to have helped with the storage two days ago, unfortunately those plans were cancelled. Work had called, offering him the opportunity to take on a temporary position inside the city. Understaffed with employees absent due to flu, the opportunity proved great for his father. At last, a chance to showcase his skills, his hard laboured qualities. Perhaps he would get a promotion? Perhaps they'd move closer to the city? 

Iwaizumi snorted at the thought. The chances weren't likely even if an offer did arrive, and nothing would tear his family from their home. Even before Iwaizumi's birth, they had lived and laughed and grown here. They wouldn't just abandon it. That, and the cost of rent would dramatically increase the closer to the city they moved.

Iwaizumi rolled back his chair and set to reorganising the few boxes he had already packed up. The smaller stuff had been easy, but he would still need the larger stuff out until nearer the time. He made sure to set them by the door, stacking the smaller boxes carefully out of the way.

The last thing he wanted to do was to wake his mother with the noise of his packing.

Iwaizumi didn't take too long. Everything sat stacked away conveniently in under twenty minutes and Iwaizumi dropped back on to his seat with a sigh, closing his eyes and massaging his head. He wondered how Oikawa's clear-out was progressing, his own parents having caught ideas from Iwaizumi’s with a single word. What a terrible, terrible family they were. Iwaizumi huffed, laughing at the thought of Oikawa's outraged face. _'There's months left!_ ' cried the phantom voice of Oikawa, too high pitched and whiny to be real.

The moment of calm broke as Iwaizumi's thoughts drifted and tuned into the sound of shuffling outside in the hall. He opened his eyes and squinted at the door. His mother must have woken up after all. The tension drain from his shoulders.  _Thank god._ Relief swept over Iwaizumi at the thought of her rising to use the bathroom, or to grab a glass of water. It was about damn time.

He made a note to call Oikawa's mother, imagining the joy in her voice at the news. Oikawa would also be glad to hear of it. For the past week, Iwaizumi had barred Oikawa from the house, fearful he too would catch the flu. Oikawa and sickness were a mess that Iwaizumi did not want to deal with, not alongside his mother’s struggle. Too snotty. Too whiny.

As he stood up, he stretched and Iwaizumi let out an appreciative groan as his joints popped in all the right places. If his mother was well enough to get up then he needed to give her a hand, what if she got dizzy and fell over? Weak from fever and lack of food, gaining an injury on top of that would not help the situation.

Iwaizumi walked over to the door, pulled it open, and leant against the frame. His mother stood half way between his room and the stairs, leaning heavily to one side. Iwaizumi tried not to let the concern show too much in his voice as he spoke up, calling out to her.

“Glad as I am to see you up, you're going to make Oikawa look like a responsible guy if you start being the one pushing yourself too hard.” He stepped outside as she made a low noise, a laugh maybe? She sounded rough. The kettle wouldn’t take too long to boil. He’d save the poor humour for later and make her tea.

She turned towards him and then pitched sideways. Iwaizumi started, at her side immediately in two long strides to catch her. She clutched at his arms as he righted her, almost steady again. What was she thinking in this state?! “You need to lay back down. I'll heat up some soup and get you some water. Sound good?”

He took a step backwards to help her balance as she tried to turn towards him. Her frail grip around his arm tightened painfully and Iwaizumi winced, pulling away on reflex. His arm refused to budge from her hold, and his mother let out a rasping breath.

“Mum? Mum that hurts, let go.”

Wrongness coiled in his gut. Her grip was too strong for her weakened state, and he was unprepared when she rounded, teeth bared. Her hair shifted—no longer obscuring pale, sunken features—and she arced towards him in a violent motion. Her open mouth released a guttural sound he'd only ever heard in fiction.

He darted away, ripping his arm from her grip in the process. Her nails dragged ribbons across his skin, stinging deep. She lurched forward, stumbling in her approach, her complete focus on Iwaizumi.

His heart raced in his ears. What was wrong with her? What just happened? He backed up, putting distance between himself and his mother until his shoulders connected with the frame of his door. His pulse jumped.

Iwaizumi moved inside and rushed to swing the door shut. Before it could even connect with the lock, the full weight of his mother collided with the wood, pushing back against him as her hand clawed its way through the gap.

“Mum! Mum stop...  _Shit!_ ” His breath caught.

With a grunt he pushed his weight against the door, crushing it against her. She made no move to pull away, not even a cry of pain. She made noises far, far worse. Animalistic. Frantic.

Iwaizumi's pulse pounded through his head, thoughts lost to his mother’s screeching and the panic lodged in his throat. He chanced a glance up and was horrified to notice blood trailing down the doors edge, cutting deep into his mother’s thrashing arm.

His strength drained out with the colour in his face, and the distraction allowed her to shove the door open onto him. His balance lost, Iwaizumi tripped over the boxes by the door and hit the floor with a painful thud, desk chair toppling over beside him. He'd clipped it on the way down.

She dove for him, caught his leg in a desperate hand, and Iwaizumi kicked out hard against her to dislodge her grip. The jolt was enough to free him but the action made his stomach turn. He'd just kicked his mother. His mother that was desperately trying to... to bite him? It didn't make sense. None of this made any sense.

He needed distance between them. The chair was convenient. He scrambled up, using his bed for support and grabbed the desk chair as she tried to right herself enough to make another lunge for him. In any other situation this would have been comical, a chair for a shield, just like the cartoons, but it wasn't. Iwaizumi found himself cornered between his desk and the chair, terror racing across his nerves with what he faced before him.

She lunged for him again and Iwaizumi braced himself against the makeshift shield. Years of volleyball had kept him fit and strong, so when her weight hit the chair, Iwaizumi held it steady. He pulled it back, throwing her momentum off, and closed his eyes as he shoved the wheels into her stomach with everything he could.

He heard the crash before he saw it and opened his eyes to catch her stumbling backwards across the strewn contents of the toppled boxes, straight into the dresser. Her head hit the vivarium and the sound of shattering glass filled his ears. Her body jerked, stiffened, and then stilled.

She didn't move again.

Blood pooled across the dresser counter, mixing with shards of glass and the crushed wings of a large black beetle. The chair dropped from Iwaizumi's hands.

~*~

He had lost track of the time. Hours had surely sped by, but his clock betrayed him as it rounded on the quarter mark. Only twenty-three minutes. Twenty-three minutes since he had fled his bedroom and locked himself in the toilet. Twenty-three minutes since his mother’s head cracked open and Iwaizumi lost the contents of his stomach to the porcelain bowl.

He shuddered and heaved again, but there was nothing left to release. Instead, he sat back with his head against the wall and shook, horror crawling across his skin with each after image. He'd heard sirens several times in the night, perhaps they'd— In a situation like this, surely there was a—

A phone. His phone. Iwaizumi needed to call someone. The police? His father? Oikawa? Who in their right mind would believe any of this?! If he didn't understand, then how was he meant to explain it to someone else? 

The opposite wall offered no answers, but it was better than closing his eyes. Every moment flashed against the backs of his eyelids, captured in snapshots. After a weak pat against his pockets, his heart dropped into his stomach with the realisation that he had lost his phone in the other room. He couldn't go back in there. Not with her in there. Not to that scene.

Grasping for the toilet once again, Iwaizumi hung his head and retched.

~*~

The sound came slowly, filtering through the fog inside Iwaizumi’s head. Quiet. Distant. He listened closely to what sounded like the rattling of the door downstairs. A small voice reminded him that his father wasn't due home for another week. No one else would visit this late at night without phoning first.

He sat up in a panic. What if— No, not again. No, no, he couldn't do this again. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists by his sides, shaking against the floor. These things weren't meant to happen in real life, they were only meant to be fictional. No one should be trying to enter his house, his mother should be asleep in the next room, and he shouldn't be contemplating something so impossible.

Iwaizumi unclenched his fists and tugged at the collar of his T-shirt. The walls felt like they were closing in, his breaths coming to short, too quick. There was definitely someone... or something, struggling with the door downstairs. If it—  _they_  got inside...

A weapon. He needed a weapon, that's what they used in the movies wasn't it? Movies that shouldn't be real. But what was there in the bathroom?! Toilet paper, shampoo, the glass mirror... but if he smashed it, they would know he was there. There had to be something else, bleach? No, the movies all showed that pain did nothing. His mother never so much as yelped when the door crushed her arm. His stomach clenched painfully and Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut against the image. For a moment the room swayed. 

As the nausea passed, he unclenched his eyes to look around for something he could hold. Iwaizumi stood up on shaking legs and used the wall for support, quietly searching the room as his thoughts spun. This was too much, there was no way all those ridiculous stories were true. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this.

Iwaizumi heard the tell-tale whine of the doors hinges down below, the sound carrying upstairs with its opening. He swallowed back the bile rising in his throat, imagining a shambling figure in the entry way.

As he stared up at the ceiling, Iwaizumi noticed the curtain rod and wondered if this was really the right thing to do. The pole wasn't screwed to the wall, it had to be easy to take down for cleaning. He knocked it off its perch and the curtain slipped onto the tiles at his feet. The metal pole fit just firmly enough in his shaking hands to be worth some use, but not a lot. Still, he figured it could at least give a good hit if it came down to it.

He trod lightly to the door and took a deep breath, counting backwards the way he had once taught Oikawa. Iwaizumi turned the key in the lock as quietly as possible and paused, listening. When no sound came from nearby, he cracked it open an inch.

The hallway was empty. The relief was overwhelming, but he couldn't relax. Just because nothing was in the hallway, didn't mean that downstairs, or the other bedrooms were safe. None of the doors were open, barring his own and his mothers.

No bloodied marks had left a trail from his room that weren't his own footsteps. Iwaizumi didn't want to look at his feet, he'd been too panicked to notice that he had stepped through her blood as he fled. His stomach ached and a shuddering breath rattled his ribs. He couldn't bring himself to look into the room again, he couldn't. He had just left her in there.

He tore his gaze away from his bloodied bedroom door and – bravely, or stupidly – Iwaizumi ducked his head into his mother’s room. Empty. It would always be empty from now. The thought felt like a cavern tearing open inside of him, a hollow void of guilt. She was _dead._ All alone in the other room and—

Iwaizumi stopped himself and leant against the hall wall to watch the stairs, holding his breath until the spiralling moment subsided. There was someone, or something in his house. He needed to focus, keep it together. He was good at that, suppressing his fears to get the job done, just like on the court. Maybe the team didn't need him to be strong for them right now, but  _he_  needed someone. He only had himself.

With steady breaths, Iwaizumi stepped away from the wall and started down the stairs. He knew where to step to avoid the harsh creaks and squeaks that would give him away. He took them slowly, one at a time, straining to listen to the sounds in the silence over his own pounding heartbeat. Surely that was loud enough to be audible outside of his body at this point.

He stopped when he reached the bottom step. The front door was shut properly. Had something so impossible really come through? They couldn't use door handles. What if it wasn't one? What if his father _had_ come home early for a surprise? What would he say to him, armed with a pole in the hallway? How could he explain any of this?! How did you explain that your mother was dead? That his wife… his best friend…

A noise from the kitchen derailed him.

Iwaizumi steeled himself. This was it. There was no other option, he’d either be greeted by the impossible, or his father. Both ideas brought fresh nausea as he tiptoed his way to the kitchen, but he pleaded for the latter to any deity that would listen.

A dark shape hovered by the back door and Iwaizumi felt his pleas go unheard. The shape wasn't tall enough to be his father and that left him with only one other conclusion. He'd catch it by surprise before it could react. The choice was smart, logical. Ridiculous. 

Iwaizumi snuck in from behind with weak knees and crept closer. As he raised the pole above his head to strike down, his blood ran cold as he hit the utensils hanging from his mother’s kitchen rack. The noise clattered and the figure turned around with a startled yelp.

Iwaizumi's motion jarred and a hand clamped onto the pole, blocking the hit.

“Holy shit, Iwa-chan! You could have taken off my head!” They were harsh whispers, loud enough for him to recognise that the other wanted to shout.

Iwaizumi dropped the pole. He'd almost—

“Iwa... Hey, hey don't look at me like that, that's a scary face, and not your usual one.”

“Oikawa... H-how? How did you get inside?”

Oikawa stood straighter and lifted out the keys from the inside of his pocket. “Your mum gave us a set remember? You've got keys to mine too. I... It was safer this way. I didn't know if— Shit, have you seen the news?”

Iwaizumi stared at the metal keys and slowly looked back up to Oikawa, nerves calming, numb with the sense that he was coming back down to Earth. “No. No, I haven't. I... Oikawa, why are you here?”

Oikawa was silent. That didn't sit well with him.

“It's been all over the news tonight. Those articles, from before, they weren't just flukes, or misdiagnoses.” Oikawa glanced to the back door, jittery. “I know your mum was real sick, and you weren't answering your phone, or the chat. I had to... Iwa-chan...”

“Oikawa, where are your parents?”

“Mine? Uhm... Dad's abroad at the moment, he had business trip. I... can't get hold of him. It's fine, he's probably in a meeting.” The pause that followed stretched on for too long as Oikawa shifted the weight on his feet, fidgeting. “Mum was meant to be back from her trip yesterday. I tried calling her, but it went to voice mail. I called the hot spring and they said they'd already left. I figured mums battery had died, so I found her friends’ numbers. They never picked up...”

“I... shit, Tooru.”

“Iwa-chan, where's... where's your mother?”

The vivid image of her head against the counter returned all too quickly. Iwaizumi's voice caught and he clenched his jaw, clutching the kitchen counter with white knuckles. He forced himself to talk around the stone lodged in his throat.

“What do we do now?”

Oikawa's posture fell, lips parting in dismay, but he didn't press Iwaizumi further. Instead, he motioned to the back door and started to explain. “It's like a terrible cliché but maybe we should block the main entrances and windows. That seems to be smart in games and stuff. We could move the fridge in front of it... and uhm, the sofa in front of the front door? Then contact someone...”

“A terrible cliché... Yeah. Okay.”

Iwaizumi walked over to the fridge and thought that this must be what autopilot felt like. His limbs felt heavy, and the world still spun in his peripheral, but he could block it all out for just a moment. To protect their home. To protect Oikawa. He was doing something productive. It was  _something_. He'd follow Oikawa's lead on this; the only thing left to go on, the only real plan they had. 

Oikawa was safe. He still had this.

~*~

They had sat in silence, cloaked in darkness after Oikawa helped him to secure the house. Backs against the wall in the downstairs hallway, Oikawa passed his phone over, showing him the news headlines as they updated in real-time. Breaking news, after breaking news. He read them quietly, avoiding the conspiracy sites, and kept his side pressed flush against Oikawa's for warmth. For comfort.

Reports of corpses reanimating continued to increase, of people seemingly gone insane trying to bite anyone close by. The first major reports had come to light in the hospitals and the care homes. Like any strong virus, it took the vulnerable first.

That wasn't to say there were no survivors. No, they would have heard of this sooner had that been the case. The lucky people recovered from the new flu strain, the luckier ones remained dead. Iwaizumi's mother was not lucky.

The change was infrequent. According to reports not every flu victim turned. They made it sound like it was something that could be contained, a problem with an immediate solution. They were enforcing stricter quarantine plans, and demanded that anyone showing symptoms immediately sought medical attention. Funny that, the hospitals suddenly having room for more.

Iwaizumi shook, it was harder to read the text. Maybe they could have done something, maybe this could have been prevented if they had acted sooner. His mother was –  _had been_  – healthy. She had never been so sick before.

He shut down the app and opened up Oikawa's contact list. Before they were born, their parents had been incredibly close. Their families had grown closer still as he and Oikawa grew up together. There was nothing strange that Oikawa had the keys to his house, or the numbers of Iwaizumi's parents.

He found his father’s and hit the dial key. Oikawa leant in closer, listening in on the dial tone.

On the fourth ring, the call cut off and his father’s voice came through the speakers. Iwaizumi caught himself just as the relieved words left his mouth. He cursed. The call had connected to voicemail and any elation evaporated like water over a flame. 

“It's late here, he might just be asleep.” It was all Oikawa could offer. The panic wasn’t wide spread yet. Iwaizumi tried not to consider the likelihood of people being ill or dead at the hotel his father was staying at. Oikawa's own lack of response from his parents was hard enough not to focus on. He felt the shudder against his side that shot through Oikawa.

“Yeah, he has to wake up early, maybe...” Iwaizumi tried again, dialling the number until it switched to voicemail. “Hey, I'm using Oikawa's phone, but if you get this message, call us back as fast as you can. There's— Dad, please, I- I don't know where to start. Oikawa and I are okay, but please get this message. Be careful!”

Iwaizumi ended the call before he could damage the phone trapped in his iron grip. He wanted to say so much more, he needed to explain about his mother, he needed to know that his father was safe. How could he do that down the phone, or sum any of this up in a short message? Hi dad, hope your trip is going well. Mums dead. Come home soon.

As a strained, strangled, noise left Iwaizumi's throat, and Oikawa reached across to take the phone from his hands. He set it on the floor beside them. Iwaizumi tracked the movement, realising the reason for his clouding vision as he clutched at the empty air where the phone had been. When the first of the tears fell, there was no stopping the rest. The dam broke in a torrent.

Oikawa held on to him—gripped at his shirt and pulled him closer to rest his head on Iwaizumi's shoulder. In the tight embrace, Iwaizumi sobbed until the air left his lungs and his body lost strength. Oikawa’s familiar weight a shield against the horrors as Iwaizumi let go and openly wept for the loss of his mother.

~*~

It would take three weeks before they discovered that the bites dramatically sped up the turning process, and that the situation could no longer be simply contained. 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Got talking with [Jackidy](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Jackidy) about Haikyuu!! AU's whilst watching The Walking Dead. (Though this is not a TWD au).
> 
> I asked mer whether or not the HQ lot had any pets, since often in tragic fiction, the pet either dies horribly, or saves the day. The response I got was about Iwaizumi owning bugs, and a tale of snail judgement. 
> 
> Edit: Made some minor changes and added some additional dialogue, fixed some grammar issues.


End file.
